Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 1/29/15
I’m not sure which I find more jarring here: the fact that Jughaid has used the flatlander term “spoiler alert” (in Hootin’ Holler, as in many traditional cultures, entertainment takes the form of bards putting their own spin on endless variations of well-known narratives, so the very idea of a novel, linear plot with a surprising ending would be foreign to these children), or the fact that the normally raven-haired Miz Prunelly is suddenly a blonde.
Crankshaft and Funky Winkerbean, 1/29/15
Well, the Dick Tracy-Funky Winkerbean crossover is over, but the Funkyverse still has CROSSOVER FEVER!!!!! With nobody currently willing to cross over with it, though, it’s been forced to mingle timelines with … itself. Yes, there’s now a cross-decade Funky Winkerbean-Crankshaft narrative confluence in progress, about Crankshaft driving beloved (?) band leader Harry Dinkle and the band to some band championship or something. Funky’s installments are using Old Timey Photo Album Frame panels, the strip’s sign for Things That Happened Long Ago, which is confusing since both strips take place more or less in the present. All this timestream mucking about mainly serves to sadly let us know that, since Crankshaft’s life continues beyond this adventure, Harry will never make good on his promise to slide that baton straight through Crankshaft’s leathery old flesh and right into his black, shriveled heart.
Six Chix, 1/29/15
One good thing about having a nationally syndicated comic strip: when you experience some minor irritation in your daily life, the rapidly aging and declining comics-reading demographic will get to hear about it, by God.
The only time pluggers will be addressed with the slightest glimmer dignity is when they are already in the grave.
I know, I just discussed this a few weeks ago, but for real, what is the deal with Heathcliff’s garbage? The city dump is filled entirely with great mounds of viscous, chunky brown trash-slurry, which no doubt quiver gelatinously and put out a horrifying odor that serves as a cat-aphrodisiac, much to the disgust of our garbage man and his cigar-sucking pal. Presumably this strip takes place only moments after they tossed an old tire and shopping cart up onto the goo-heap, in an attempt to pretend that what was happening on their watch wasn’t nightmarish and potentially human-extinction-causing.
Apartment 3-G, 1/28/15
Whew, Margo and her waitress are now … inside … somewhere … where there’s a bowl of pears and a TV and/or microwave and some coffee cups and hotel-quality art and dresser/cabinets of some sort and shall we call it a cafe? Sure, why not. Plus she’s finally got her breakfast. Eggs over easy, bacon, toast, pancakes, and apple pie, all mashed together into off-white chunks and put in a bowl, just the way she likes it!
Mary Worth, 1/28/15
OH SNAP SEAN JUST BACK-HANDEDLY PROPOSED TO HANNA!!!! This is probably the least romantic comics proposal since Anthony and Elizabeth came to the consensus that their friend-partnership should be upgraded way back in aught-eight. Nothing says “will you marry me” like “I know we haven’t talked about it yet but I’ve already been dreading what a pain in the ass our wedding is going to be”!
Dennis the Menace, 1/28/15
This mysterious woman with glasses and a clipboard, searching through kindergarten recess for signs of nonconformity, is the most menacing figure to appear in this strip in years.
“Crude” is kind of a polite way to describe what the art in Crock is like, but you have to admit that it gets the job done here. I’m assuming that the “job” in question is to show a couple of sapient animals grinning dreamily about how if they just urinate on things, they own them. Cool, right? Fun how that works out. Just cover it in piss, and it’s yours. Buy some booze so you pee more and increase your landholdings. It’s enough to give you a faraway look in your eye as you contemplate what a wonderful world this is that we live in.
Six Chix, 1/27/15
In less fun sapient animal news, these two goldfish are going to be forced to share extremely cramped quarters with their friend’s bloating corpse for who knows how long. “Is it possible that the water we need to live was too wet?” they babble nonsensically, trying to distract themselves from the horror.
Apartment 3-G, 1/27/15
The Story Of The Breakfast Eaten At The Friendly Neighborhood Cafe Which Is Also Just Two People Standing Around On The Sidewalk … continues! In today’s installment, Margo revels in her local celebrity status. Her boast of “owning that new building down the block” is interesting; this as near as I can tell picks up a vaguely remembered plotline from more than a decade ago, which established that the girls (and perhaps all the other residents?) collectively own the building they lived in, and that said building isn’t new at all but actually old enough to include a hiding place used by slaves fleeing to freedom on the Underground Railroad. If Margo’s managed to spin things so that she’s famous as the sole owner of a newly constructed Manhattan apartment building despite all available evidence, I may have to re-evaluate my low opinion of her as a publicist.
Mary Worth, 1/27/15
Say what you will about Apartment 3-G’s weird story-art disconnect, but at least it doesn’t expect us to learn about its characters’ digestive lives in excruciating detail.